Healing Hurts
by Written Fire
Summary: Canada comes out of the meeting to the startling sight of America crying into his knees. Just what is it that has broken his brother? Both country and human names used; one-shot.


_Well, here is a one-shot that has been sitting unfinished on Alfred (my flashdrive) for...well, I started this the ending half of my senior year, so it's been some months. It's all from Canada's point of view, and is about the sibling relationship between him and America. _

_Again, I use both human and country names in this one-shot.  
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_I know I said this for 'Coming Home', which is a one-shot in the Harry Potter fandom (yet another one I had unfinished for months _'), but I don't think you all read that so I'll say it again. So I have decided that over the course of this break that I am going to attempt to finish the **24 **unfinished works that I have started. This story is 2/24 - I'm really lagging it, I became unexpectedly busy!  
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_On an entirely different note, I saw The Hobbit today. It was a really good movie! I however did not know that they are doing it as a trilogy and so was shocked when it ended like it did. -_-  
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_Alright, I'll shut up now and let you get to the story!  
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_**Disclaimer: I do not in any way own these characters. Hetalia is not mine.**  
_

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"Alfie…are you ok?" Canada asked his brother quietly, crouched down next to him on the ground. He felt like an idiot the moment the words left his mouth; it was all too obvious that America was not ok. He was sitting on the ground in front of the building that the meeting was being held at that month, his legs bent and drawn up into his chest. His arms were bent and crossed on his knees, his head resting on them.

It was not clear how long he had been out there, sitting in the rain; but judging by the soaked clothes and trembling in his shoulders he would assume a long time. Canada placed a comforting hand on America's shoulder, biting back his noise of shock when he suddenly found himself with his back slammed to the wall, his arms full of his brother.

Canada was sitting with his back to the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. When America had launched himself at him he had wound up half in his lap with his face pressed to his chest, his strong arms wrapped around him and his hands bunching up his shirt at the back. Matthew wrapped one arm around his broad shoulders, his hand gripping his shirt as he held his brother close. His free hand went up to his head, his fingers running through his soaked hair in a soothing gesture as he murmured comforting words into his ear.

Matthew wasn't sure how long they sat there for, the only noises the soft pattering of the rain mixed with America's crying and Canada's soft, nonsense words. He didn't know how long he had gently been rocking the bigger man in his lap for, comforting in the only way he knew how. He did know that it didn't matter, though, for he would be there for his noisier twin whenever he was needed, like he knew he would be for him.

"Alfred…" Matthew trailed off and sighed, switching to the other thing he had wanted to say. "Come on, Al; let's go back to my room, ok? If you stay in these clothes any longer you'll catch a cold." Mattie waited until he nodded against him to gently push him away, standing quickly and helping his brother up.

He held his hand as he led the way to the car that he had rented for the month that he was going to be in Germany; he was staying even after the meeting to spend some time with Prussia. They had a…_thing_, going on and they had decided to spend a month over in Germany together. It was a big decision on both of their parts, but after one too many nights spent talking on the phone and going to bed unsatisfied, Canada has spontaneously decided to spend the month after the meeting with Gil over in Germany. Prussia didn't put up much of a fight over it—he had half-heartedly pointed out that Mattie had things to do for his country—before telling him to make sure he was prepared for an awesome time.

The only person who knew about their relationship was Alfred; Matthew assumed that Germany did too, but you could never be sure with Prussia. As he drove through traffic, being careful to take in mind the storm, he chanced glances over at his brother. Each time he did he felt his heart break even more.

His brother was a normally happy person. In fact, in his persona that he allowed the world to see he was always smiling, laughing, and presenting the most stupid ideas as solutions to the world's problems. He ate like a pig and talked like he didn't have a smart thought in his head.

It annoyed him, honestly, but he understood why his brother did what he did. America really was a hero; he did what was needed at the time, and in order to put others at ease, he acted like a stereotypical American, because _that _is what everyone else was comfortable with. Acting like he did gave the others something to vent their frustrations out on and their dislike of him gave them something to bond over.

It hurt him, he knew, but he continued on with it. Only the ones that really knew him could see the pain in his eyes, or notice how none of his smiles and laughs were genuine. If anyone bothered to look they would see how thin he was under his clothes, or how dark those bags under his eyes were. The only reason they did not was because no one could be bothered to try and see past their preconceived notions of him.

That made him furious.

The only ones his brother felt comfortable enough around to let his guard down were him and Japan. He knew that the other nations were aware of their friendship; but none knew just how deep it really was. At first Canada had been wary of their friendship; he was very protective of his brother and didn't want the small, formal man to hurt him. His fear had been proven wrong though, for beside himself and that alien his brother was so fond of, Kiku was his brother's best friend.

As Canada pulled into the parking lot of their hotel, he couldn't help but wonder where the other man was.

Once they were parked he shut the engine off and hurried out of his car, helping his brother out and leading the way inside and to the elevator. The entire trip he did not look over at him; he couldn't without wanting to cry himself. The sight of him so distraught made him hurt, and he knew he had to be strong for his brother. Canada kept that thought in mind as he led the way down the hall, maneuvering his way around his pockets to find his room key.

Once he had found it he fumbled briefly on getting the door to unlock, helping his brother in and into the bathroom, leaning him against the counter before grabbing a towel and rubbing his head with it. "Come on, Al, we need to get you out of your clothes, okay?" he said, waiting for his brothers nodded okay before he began to strip him of his clothes, the articles landing with 'plops' on the tiled floor.

He knew that if one of the others came in right now, this could be taken in a way that honestly, was just sickening to think about. That is to say if they saw him, anyways. Matthew knew it was odd for a sibling to do this for another—with the exception of say, toddler age and younger, or if they were not mentally capable—but it wasn't as if he was stripping him _completely. _If he had to, yeah, he would step up and do what he had to, regardless of the awkwardness of it all. They were twins, and as close as siblings can get.

"Take your boxers off and dry up, okay? I'm going to get you some dry clothes." He said, making sure that he saw an acknowledgement from his brother before leaving the bathroom and digging around his open suitcase for anything—clean—that would fit Al.

Grabbing his last pair of clean boxers and ignoring the awkward that could stem from loaning them, he set them off to the side and on-top of the sweats he had found, digging up a shirt that America had bought him. It was too big, and should fit the other perfectly. Standing with the clothes in hand he walked back to the room, setting the stack on the counter beside his brother.

As the taller blonde dressed he picked the wet clothes up off the floor, hanging them up to dry in the shower. He changed himself afterwards, glancing at all of the dripping pieces of cloth in his shower for a brief moment before turning his attention back to his brother, who was standing where he had left him, dressed in borrowed clothing and staring blankly at the wall before him.

It didn't look like he was really there. Matthew couldn't figure out what was going on in his head, a fact that scared him while it worried him. You could always count on his eyes to give away what he was really feeling; Alfred may be able to hide from the world, but Canada always knew what was happening, just by looking into his expressive blue eyes. Being left in the dark like this left him with an uneasy feeling.

"Come on Al…" he grabbed his hand, tugging slightly to get him moving. Mattie led him to the bed, sitting him down on it before grabbing one of the room's chairs and placing it in front of him. He wanted to be able to see his face when they talked—this way, he wouldn't be able to look away. This was all assuming, of course, that he would talk.

"Alfie…what's wrong?" he asked after moments of silence, his voice soft, gentle. He gave a heart breaking sniffle as answer, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses. Matthew waited patiently for him to compose himself enough to talk, his hands resting on his knees as he watched his brother try and erase the clear signs of crying.

"I caught them." He started, fingers curling into fists. "England and France. I caught them. They weren't even trying to hide it, they were…they were practically _fucking,_ right outside the meeting door." He growled, the word dripping venom. Matthew was barely able to suppress his gasp; Alfred and Arthur had been dating steadily for a year now, and they had looked so _happy_. "They saw me, too. He wasn't even sorry. He didn't apologize. He…he told me I was an idiot if I thought that he was actually i-in l-love with me." he choked on those two words, tears once again pooling in his eyes.

At the sight of his brother, his strong, seemingly invincible brother so broken, his heart wrenching words ringing in his head, something in Matthew snapped. With rage running through his body he acted on instinct—he quickly stood, his chair flying out to crash to the floor as he paced away from his brother, fists clenched at his sides and a growl rumbling in his chest.

He knew that he was startling his brother, he had heard the gasp, and if he looked at him he knew that there would be confusion in his eyes, on his face. Right at that moment he wanted nothing more than to track England and France down and beat them until they weren't conscious—who cares if they had both helped raised him at some point in his life, they had just knowingly, _willingly,_ hurt the **one** person who _never_ forgot about him, who was _always_ there for him, even if their countries were of opposing opinions, on opposing sides. They ruined what little of a relationship that they had. There was no repairing this—even if his brother were to forgive, he wouldn't—he couldn't.

It took a while for him to be able to calm down. Each time he thought that he could sit back down and talk with his brother again, he would think of those two and be furious all over again. It took hearing his brother awkwardly trying to hide a sniffle that pulled him out of it. No matter how angry he was at the two European countries, he had to put it aside so that he could go and comfort his brother. _He _needed him right now, his aggressive thoughts could wait.

Taking a deep, calming breath he turned back to his brother, walking over to him and sitting on the chair before him. Composed now he waited to catch his attention again, and when he did he sent him a small, sad smile. "Sorry Alfie." He murmured, looking at him apologetically—he didn't need to deal with an angry brother at the moment.

Alfred responded by grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug, his face burrowed in the crook of his neck and his arms wrapped around him in a strong grip. "I love you Mattie." His words were muffled against his skin but Canada heard them clearly.

"I love you too." He said loudly—clearly—wanting his brother to hear the sincerity in his voice. When he started to cry again he had him move back on the bed so that he could sit with his back against the wall at the head of the bed as he held him, letting him purge himself of all the hurt he held in his body. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, curled up against him, his glasses smeared, wet, and making marks in his skin from where they rested on his forehead.

Gently, making sure not to wake him, Matthew removed them front his face, cleaning them the best he could before placing them on the nightstand side the bed. Removing his strong grip took a while, but eventually he was able to free himself. The instant he did he slowly moved America until he was lying on the bed correctly, covering him with the blanket. His gaze lingered on his face for a long moment, taking in the dried tear tracks, the puffy eyes.

His anger warred with his—as Alfred liked to teasingly call it—motherly affection, the urge to find England and France, and teaching them a lesson almost over-powering his want to stay here in case he needed him. With a sigh he gave into the latter, knowing that if Al woke up alone he would feel abandoned. The last time he had fallen asleep on Canada because of something drastic, he had made the stupid mistake of leaving his sleeping brother alone. Alfred may not like to admit it, but they both know that he was clingy, especially when in pain.

With that thought in mind he kissed his brother on the forehead, the touch instantly erasing the frown that had started to form. Walking around the bed he set his own pair of glasses on the other end table, turning the lights off and burrowing under the covers, turning to face the sleeping blonde and make sure that he was close enough that he would know if he became distressed in his slumber, but far enough away that they weren't in each other's personal space. Staring at the shadowy form of his brother, the way that you could see his unhappiness, even in his sleep, he vowed that life for England and France was about to become unpleasant. They would pay for hurting the happy, strong, bubbly American the way that they did. Canada had enough dirt on the two of them to make their lives _extremely _difficult, for a long while to come.

No one hurts Canada's loved one, his _best friend,_ and gets away with it.

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_And there it was! I hope that you enjoyed it, and if any of you are like my China and want a part two.. I don't know at this point in time if I will do that, because I lost inspiration for this story towards the end. But, I do know what would happen if I did so, so you never know... But if you do want another part? Let me know please!_

_I don't like FrUk, to be honest with you all. I love UsUk! But, well, FrUk was the first thing that popped to mind when I was thinking of the reason for Alfred being so destroyed.  
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_Sorry about the odd times I post my things-I just post them when I finish them, without thinking, and that usually tends to be late at night;;  
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_I hope that you guys enjoyed this story.  
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_Reviews are so welcome :)  
_


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